In the Back
by LoyaltyFalters
Summary: Percy Jackson was always in the back of the class. He didn't fight back, he didn't complain. He was just...there. But Percy's done with sitting around and watching others and himself get treated like trash. He was just done. Before Yancy. Rated T for language and a small mention of abuse.


**I do not own Percy Jackson and The Olympians. Try reading this one-shot listening to Superluv by Shane Dawson. Guy's an angel. **

* * *

He wasn't a superhero. He couldn't shoot lasers from his hands or freeze things with only his eyes. Percy was the loser fifth grader who still couldn't read to save his life. Simple as that. It had always been like this, since the beginning.

Percy was, quite simply, that kid in the back of the classroom. The one every child sneered at and ignored, the one teachers dreaded to have in their class. He couldn't really blame them. He wouldn't want himself in his class either. Unfortunately for both him and his peers, however, he couldn't change that. He couldn't help who he was. It wasn't his fault; he didn't ask to be like this. Percy swiped a hand over his eyes. Couldn't they just leave him alone? It's not like he fought back. It's not like he tried to screw up everything he got into contact with.

He wished _they_ could just find someone else to blame.

And really, if anyone was to _really_ blame, it was his father. Percy, after all, didn't get his sardonic mouth from his mother, nor did he get his penchant for trouble from her either. While Sally had bad luck, she wasn't a trouble maker by any means. He snorted bitterly. Maybe he was judging too quickly. For all he knew, his father was the exact opposite of him. He, after all, had never met the man. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should be happy that he never got to know the man who gave him life. If he was anything like Gabe, Percy should be jumping for joy.

But_ he_ really needed to find someone to blame.

So, as he glared at everyone he passed in the lunchroom, Percy made sure to look for the most rude, disgusting person he could find in an elementary school. He figured, if he was going to mentally abuse anyone in his head, it may as well be a jerk he didn't like. It was easy enough to find his target.

Mark Bailey stood at the other end of the cafeteria, his spiky mohawk standing out with its outlandish orange color. Percy scowled. Ever since he had arrived here, the stuck-up boy had been completely convinced that it was his personal responsibility to make Percy's life miserable. This was an obvious waste of time, considering Percy was pretty sure his life was as miserable as it could get without him slitting his wrists. Of course, even if he did do that—and he had been tempted—he doubted that he would actually die. Some otherworldly force seemed keen on keeping him alive. He'd have to send them a "Fuck you" card to show his appreciation.

With a sigh, Percy turned his attention to Bailey again. He was leaning over two small girls, their braids in his meaty fists. The green-eyed eleven-year-old grimaced. While he may not like anyone here, Percy hated seeing people being picked on or bullied. It made his heart clench to see the frightened faces of the ones being terrorized, even though it really was none of his business in the first place. Percy couldn't help it, defenseless people just called out for his care, even if they didn't want it. Like his mother.

He let out a frustrated groan. _Just ignore him,_ he thought, _keep your nose clean, Perce_. _No need to start a fight. They're not worth it._ But they were. And as he watched them whimper and beg for the asshole to let them go, Percy felt his well thought-out mask crack down the middle. Girls had always managed to soften his heart. It wasn't that he was sexist, but Percy had always been oddly protective over the opposite gender. And seeing them so upset…made his blood boil. He just had to help them.

But how?

Percy wasn't a hero. He couldn't save anyone, not even himself from his abusive stepfather. Rubbing his bruised wrist at the reminder, he looked hesitantly back at the two girls and their attacker. Mark was laughing now, taunting them with vulgar language. Clenching his teeth, he looked down to his mostly full tray. Water, a roll, an apple and something he thought was chili. Percy froze. Chili… A plan formed in his head.

A very risky, possibly harmful plan, but a plan nonetheless. Besides, it was simple, and only took one item and extreme deception.

He was willing to take the risk.

With a slight mischievousness in his step, he stood up from his lunch table, and walked towards the trash. Percy ignored or dodged the food being thrown his way. If they wanted to waste their lunch, why should he stop them? Not to mention, for this mission of his, this was the exact chance he was hoping for. Percy felt his heart pump with adrenaline as he walked almost directly behind Bailey. Oh, _hell_ yes.

With a Cheshire grin that would scare away the most horrifying creatures, he "accidentally" slipped on some food. Flicking his try expertly, Percy stumbled, covering the larger boy's back in a mess of lukewarm, bad-smelling Mexican food. He bit back a snicker, flipping his tray even more to get it stuck in his orange mohawk.

The result was instantaneous. Silence filled the lunch hall, and Mark Bailey slowly turned to his small figure. "Jackson," he snarled.

Percy smiled angelically. "Bailey," he mocked sweetly. He was pretty sure he was about to get beaten into a pulp, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The look of appreciation on the two girl's faces was enough, and as he crawled away from the boy who had made his school-life miserable since he had gotten here, he felt the weight on his heart lighten, if only a little. Percy stood up, smirking at Mark Bailey with a new type of defiance. Something he had never showed anyone.

Maybe he could get used to this hero thing.

* * *

This... I dunno. It's quite obvious that Percy has a hero complex, it's as clear as day, and I guess I just wanted to add onto that. I mean, Riordan was always good at showing what a caring, defiant person Percy was, but I wondered... Was he always like that? Was there a time when Percy Jackson didn't fight back? That's how this one-shot came into existence.

It's not perfect in any means, and I'm kinda disappointed with how it turned out, but still... For you, my dear readers. If you have any questions, requests, or just a piece of advice, just review or PM me. If you're in to angst stories, check me out by clicking on my profile.

Thanks!

-Loyalty


End file.
